


Exigency

by St_Salieri



Series: Reconnections [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-29
Updated: 2006-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Salieri/pseuds/St_Salieri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy and Spike continue to reconnect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exigency

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after "Return to Abnormal"

By the time Buffy paused to notice where she was, she had walked halfway across town.

The streets of Sunnydale were dark, the traffic even less heavy than usual for this hour of the night. There was no mistake about it: the town -- which had survived vampires, demons and a hell god -- was emptying out. People had finally had enough. Goodbye Hellmouth, farewell Sunnydale.

As she walked, her boots made a dull thump against the pavement, unnaturally loud in the near silence of the night. She felt numb and muffled. Her ears buzzed, as if she'd been in the vicinity of an atomic blast. She swallowed hard and forced herself to walk faster. The repetitive motion was the only thing that kept her from thinking, which right now was a very good thing. She could feel the despair creeping into the corners of her brain, along with the images she was trying so hard to keep out.

_Rona, clutching her broken arm with an accusatory look in her eyes. Molly, lying dead on the floor, a trickle of blood seeping from her open mouth. The Potential whose name she couldn't remember -- and oh god, she was such a horrible person for it -- with the snapped neck and the frozen look of surprise, who'd never had time to learn that not every fight can be won. And Xander._

Buffy clenched her hands into fists and broke into a run. She could _not_ think about Xander right now. But the more she tried not to think about him, the more she saw -- Xander screaming with blood running down his face, Xander a dead weight in her and Spike's arms as they carried him out of the wine cellar, Xander lying pale in the hospital bed with bandages over his missing eye. He'd tried so hard to be brave, giving her a faint smile that had made her heart break and sent her running out of the hospital into the night.

It was all her fault.

Everything had gone wrong from the moment she'd set foot in the vineyard. It _had_ been a trap, and people she loved had been hurt. Girls she was supposed to protect had died. And the worst part was that she somehow _knew_ , deep down in the subconscious Slayer-self that had never steered her wrong, that she would do it all again. Oh, she would do it better. They would have better weapons, a better plan, be more prepared. But she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the wine cellar held the key she was looking for. She couldn't put her finger on exactly why she felt drawn there, but she knew that the preacher had, for his own twisted purposes, spoken the truth. He did have something that belonged to her.

But at the moment, the idea of going back there again was unthinkable. She had to get back to the girls, try to reassure them and prepare them for the fight that was still coming, but how could she possibly expect them to follow her again? It seemed like a fool's errand, and she was the fool. She had to find a way to make them see what she knew. Maybe it was a Slayer thing; she should probably talk to Faith to see if she had felt that same faint hum of power when they were in the wine cellar.

Buffy slowed her steps to find that she had subconsciously walked in the direction of Northpark Cemetery. Perfect. What better place than a cemetery for a good round of self-reproach? She felt the despair creep up again, along with a healthy dose of self-loathing, and she fiercely pushed it aside. _No._ She would not go back to the spiritual grave she had spent the last year clawing her way out of.

The cemetery was quiet, like the rest of the town. The local vampire population seemed to be keeping more to themselves these days, perhaps feeling the rumbles of dark power centered around the Hellmouth. Buffy hoisted herself on top of a grave stone and slumped over, staring at her empty hands and kicking her heels aimlessly against the hard rock beneath her. She knew she should be paying more attention to her surroundings, that she was without weapons and vulnerable in this position, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She just had to take a moment to pull herself together before she took up the role of General Buffy again. She simply didn't have the luxury of working through the grief and guilt in her own time, not when so many people were depending on her.

She didn't even realize that the tears were already running down her cheeks.

Buffy scrubbed at her watering eyes, a sob caught in her throat, and did her best to stop before she let loose with a full-out crying jag. She didn't have time for this now, and she didn't deserve it. She should have been stronger, should have been faster, should have been smarter. If only she'd been just a little bit _more_ , she would have been able to...

_...stop Kendra from being killed, stop Angelus from awaking Acathla, stop Riley from getting into that helicopter, stop her mom from dying, stop Glory from taking Dawn, stop the bullet that killed Tara, stop Xander from losing his...oh god...._

Buffy shuddered and clapped her hand over her mouth, as if she could force herself to swallow the sobs that threatened to erupt. With a strangled sniff she tilted her head back, blinking furiously to try to clear her eyes and nose. It was only then that she realized exactly where she was.

She was sitting right next to a grave where she had recently slain a newly-risen vampire. It was the grave where Giles had attempted to distract her long enough to allow Spike to be killed. Buffy closed her eyes against the rush of memory.

_She could feel the blood pounding in her veins. She could hear her breath rushing in and out in whistling gasps. She swallowed hard against the fear that threatened to choke her, and ran faster. Too late, she was going to be too late again...._

_Spike, don't you dare die._

Except that she _had_ been too late...and he hadn't died.

She could remember the fierce, almost orgasmic, rush of relief she'd felt on seeing him outside Wood's garage His face was bloodied, his knuckles bruised, but he'd stood tall and proud. She hadn't even bothered to wonder whether all of the blood on his lips was his own. She should have known she could count on him to be strong.

And there was one more thing she didn't know how to deal with, on top of all of the rest of the mess that was her life. _Later,_ she'd told him. At this rate, she didn't think there would be a later for any of them.

"Buffy?"

Buffy stood and spun around, taking a quick step to catch her balance. She wiped at the remnants of the tears on her face, rolling her eyes slightly. Speak of the demon.

"Spike," she said cautiously. "Is something wrong at the house? Xander?"

Spike shook his head, and she sagged with relief. "Faith's got 'em tucked away," he said, approaching her slowly. "Willow's still at the hospital with the rest."

"Oh," she said faintly. She wished she had a tissue, because the post-cry sniffing was pretty disgusting. She ended up shrugging and wiping her nose on her sleeve. It wasn't like Spike hadn't seen her in worse condition. "Did you follow me?" she asked.

"Not exactly," he said with a rueful smile. "Needed a spot of violence."

"Ah, yes," Buffy nodded, attempting a faint smile. "Because there's nothing quite like a post-fight cool-down than...another fight."

Spike gave a sheepish grin. "Well, it was either that or listen to the lot of them fight over the food. A good fight gets the appetite up. I'm sure you know that." And...was she imagining it, or was that a leer? God, he had the worst timing _ever_.

"Spike," she sighed, turning away from him. "Really not in the mood."

"Hey," he said apologetically, hurrying to catch up with her. "Sorry. Didn't mean anything by it."

Buffy eyed him suspiciously for a moment before reaching out and pinching his arm, smiling slightly when he gave a yelp. "You're being way too agreeable," she said. "I had to make sure it wasn't the First."

He snorted. "No worries, all solid here." He regarded her closely for a moment, and Buffy turned away from the intensity in his eyes. "Slayer," he said in a low voice. "I've got this. How about you go get a bit of rest?"

Buffy shook her head, disgusted to find out that her eyes were filling up again. She was just so _tired_ , weary in mind and body, but she didn't think she'd be able to sleep in a million years. "I can't," she said, her voice cracking. "I should...I should go to the hospital, check on everyone there. Or maybe go relieve Faith. Or..."

"Or," Spike interrupted, "you can run yourself into the ground so that you're not ready the next time this baddie makes its move."

"Spike!" she cried out in frustration. "Stop! I can't...I can't do this!" He was giving her a sympathetic look now, and she closed her eyes and turned away from it. She couldn't take sympathy, not from him, not while people had been hurt so badly on her watch. She heard him approach until she could feel him standing a breath away. He didn't reach out to touch her, which she appreciated more than she could say, but just stood watch behind her until she had herself under control.

_"This is the way wars are won," Giles had called after her. And she had run so hard, so afraid that she was about to lose the strongest asset they had. She couldn't take losing him, because if she was right, she had already lost Giles. And now Xander, and she hadn't run hard enough that time, and she was so tired...._

Buffy turned blindly and leaned her head against Spike's chest, not protesting when he slowly brought his arms up to circle around her. He rubbed her back gently while she grabbed fistfuls of his stupid leather coat and just held on to him. She didn't realize that she had raised her head until she opened her eyes to find him looking down at her. And oh, the intensity in his eyes made her shiver. She needed...she just needed....

Buffy closed her eyes again with a soft moan as she lifted her mouth to receive Spike's gentle kiss. This was wrong, all wrong. This was worse than last year, because he truly was her ally now in all things. This would just lead to badness, and she couldn't bear it if he left, not now, not after she'd seen the man he could be. But he wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't pulling back, as she'd half expected him to do. Instead, he was gathering her closer in his embrace, tilting his head further to meet hers. She cracked her eyes open to see him looking at her. He was so close she could barely make our his features, and she shut her eyes again with a langourous sigh. She had forgotten how soft his mouth was.

There was no rush, no urgency. There was no clawing of backs or tearing of clothes. She simply held still and kissed him, and at that moment she was at peace with the world. Without loosening her grip on his coat, Buffy sank to the ground and took him with her. And he still wasn't leaving, because that was Spike for you. Instead, he cupped her face in his hands and brushed his mouth against hers while she climbed into his lap. He gave a shuddering gasp and pulled away slightly when she pressed a stinging kiss to the side of his neck.

"Buffy," he said faintly. "What...?" And then he was kissing her again before he could finish his question. He ran his hands under the edge of her shirt, groaning when she took them and pushed them up until he was cupping her breasts. And she was wrong. This was _right_ , completely right. It was nothing like last year. It was brand new.

Buffy leaned her head back with a moan, gyrating slightly on his lap while he fondled her breasts and lightly pinched her nipples. She could feel him beneath her, rock hard -- not just his cock, but all of his muscles, clenched tight in a fight-or-flight response. She soothed him with a kiss, rubbing her cheek against his until he calmed beneath her. She raised her head to look him in the eyes.

"Spike," she whispered, half afraid to see what he was feeling. She wanted him there, caught in the same bubble. It wasn't just about need, and it wasn't just about comfort, or about forgetting. It was something new, and before they went any further she had to know that he knew it too. She couldn't find the words to tell him, so she contented herself with looking into his eyes. And what she saw there made her eyes well up with tears again, because she saw herself. He was looking at her with pride and love and a tentative hope, and he was right there with her. In that brief moment she saw herself through his eyes, and she loved the woman he saw her to be. And so she took that same pride and hope and reflected it right back at him, willing him to experience what she had.

"Can you see yourself?" she asked with a teary smile, and Spike nodded slowly.

"Yes," he breathed, caressing her skin.

"I'm right here," she whispered, and Spike had time to take a shuddering breath before she latched on to his mouth again.

They took it slowly, rocking against each other while their arousal grew. And then she was lowering herself onto him, pants discarded, while he leaned against a tombstone and sucked at her neck. God, she was so wet. Her skin was giving little jumps and twitches wherever he touched her, and she couldn't resist letting out a bubbling laugh at how right it felt. He laughed right along with her, pulling her against him with a growl that made her gasp. She squirmed against him, catching the rhythm of his rocks as he clenched and released his fingers on her ass. She reached down to finger her clit, loving the way Spike groaned and closed his eyes at the sight of her rubbing herself. And then she was coming, sooner than expected, tightening around him in a long, deep rush of heat and pleasure that left her limp against him like a rag doll. She let out a moan when he followed her and collapsed back against the gravestone. As Spike tangled his fingers in her hair and pressed a kiss against the top of her head, holding her tightly against him, she rubbed her cheek against his t-shirt and pressed her ear to his silent chest.

The cemetery was dark and still. The dead of night had passed, but it was much too soon yet for any sunlight to creep above the horizon. Buffy gave a shiver and burrowed deeper into Spike's embrace. The darkest hour _was_ just before dawn.

"How you feeling, love?" Spike asked quietly, feeling her shiver. She raised her head and gave him a lopsided smile.

"Messy," she admitted ruefully, feeling the wet stickiness where their skin stuck together. He gave her a raised eyebrow at that, and she smiled. "I feel...good," she said quietly. "I feel like Buffy."

And she did. She hadn't forgotten about the war to be fought, or the girls who needed her, or the friend who had already given so much for this fight. But she felt strong again. She felt like a Slayer -- _the_ Slayer, as a matter of fact.

"And I feel you," she said quietly, giving Spike a lingering kiss. "Thank you." His face creased in a smile, and he brushed her hair out of her face in a fond gesture. They didn't need any more words between them.

Buffy didn't know what the new day would bring, or if the new dawn would be even darker than the night before. But she knew that this was right, no matter how much time they had left.

_Love. Give. Forgive._

She felt like the woman Spike saw her as. And because she believed in him, she knew that this was who she truly was.

 

 


End file.
